The Wolf and the Hound
by Kiara Gray
Summary: This takes place after the BotB. When Sandor sees Sansa, all of the old feeling he felt in Kings Landing force their way to the surface, and he hates himself for them. But Sansa is not a fragile little bird anymore. She is a woman and a wolf, and she is done being afraid. She will take what she wants and will not apologize for it. But do either of them really know what they want?
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you so much for checking out my Fic. I have plans for this to be a full story, but I want to get a feel for if this is something you lovely readers will enjoy. This will be rated M for language and... other things. I will make sure to let you know here at the beginning of each chapter if anything crazy will be happening. So please leave a comment if this is something you want more of and if so I will try to update as often as possible!**

"Why the fuck are we going to Winterfell?"

The small group of men made their way across the green hills, though snow had begun to collect on the dewy grass. Sandor Clegane looked down at the castle of Winterfell with distaste.

"Because winter is here and we need supplies. Now that Jon Snow has taken it back from that crazy bastard Ramsey there's a good chance he'll trade with us. I've heard he's a good man." Thoros explained.

"There are no good men." Sandor sneered. "Besides, I thought you lot were ghosts. What do ghosts need to trade?"

"Aye, we are. But we are also men and trading goods is necessary. We'll be staying here for a couple weeks to gather resources before heading back out." Beric said as he urged his horse forward.

"How did that Snow bastard take Winterfell anyways? I didn't think the Northerners would follow a bastard."

"I heard he led a great army against Ramsey and his forces. Mostly wildlings and smaller houses, though the Vale joined in near the end." Thoros mused.

"Wildlings huh? I guess he is different than his father. But still, his place as Lord here can't be secure."

"From what I heard they're calling him the King in the North."

Sandor laughed humorlessly. "I've heard that before."

"True. But things are different this time. There is no one to truly challenge him now. The Lannister's have been reduced to only Cersei and she won't last long."

"I wouldn't be so sure. She's a cunt, but she's resilient and hateful. Those are dangerous qualities." Sandor grumbled.

Just the thought of Cersei's face made him want to kill someone. God's he hated that bitch. An image of Arya flashed into his mind and he couldn't help but smile. He hoped she would get the chance to take her off her list.

"Besides, Jon has a stronger standing now that his sister has joined him in ruling Winterfell."

"Arya?" he frowned. He couldn't imagine her sitting in that castle ruling over anybody.

"No, though it would be good to see that girl again. She was a ferocious little thing. I meant Sansa."

Sandor pulled his horse to a stop. "Sansa Stark?"

"Unless you know of any other sisters Jon Snow has named Sansa." Thoros smirked.

The image of Sansa Stark came to his mind as clearly as if she were standing in front of him. He pictured her on the last night he saw her, with her wide frightened eyes and lovely red hair. He remembered the thoughts he used to have of her. The thoughts he had fought against with everything in his being, because he knew he could never act on them. She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but she had also been little more than a child. Normally that wouldn't bother him, but she had been so gentle and delicate. She had been the first person he had ever actively wanted to protect. His little bird. Come to think of it, the only other person he had actively protected by his own will had been Arya Stark. What was it with the Stark girls?

They made their way closer until they were less than half a mile from the gates. Sandor didn't understand why he had a twisting feeling in his gut. Was it the idea of seeing Sansa again that made him feel this way? He shook his head in disgust. Sure, he had thought she was beautiful, and had wanted to protect her, but those feelings had long since faded. It been three years since he had seen the girl. Now she would just be another woman.

He couldn't help but feel a little disgusted at himself for the thoughts he used to have for her. He knew why he had wanted her. She had been a delicate little thing, and he was a beast. Beast's love destroying delicate things. The idea of holding something so fragile in his hands and seeing how far she could bend before she broke. He closed his eyes. Even now the thought turned him on and he hated himself for that. He had long ago accepted the man he was, and he was not deserving of someone like Sansa Stark. The only women he had even fucked had been whores, and Sansa wasn't that.

They finally reached the gates, which opened to allow them entry. They dismounted and led their horses to the stables. Beric approached a man who looked like a steward.

"I request an audience with Jon Snow and Sansa Stark."

"Who may I tell them is requesting it?"

"Beric Dondarrion."

The name seemed to ring a bell for the steward, for he bowed and rushed off. After a few minutes, he came back and nodded.

"They will see you now."

Beric, Thoros, and Sandor followed him into a spacious hall with a long table at the end. Jon Snow sat in the middle with a thick fur coat around his shoulders. He was young, with black curls and dark eyes. Sandor smirked. Women must love fucking him, the pretty lad. He was so concentrated on the bastard that he almost didn't notice the other person sitting at the table. Though once he saw her, he could see nothing else.

She was staring at him as well with a look of mixed shock and fear, with a little something else. Something that for a second had looked like she was pleased. He quickly dismissed that thought. She had never liked him.

"Beric Dondarrion." Jon greeted. "I recall my father talking of you. Though last I heard you were an outlaw."

"Aye, that we are, but we are honorable outlaws. We need a place to stay for a short while and we have brought goods to trade. We were hoping this would be the place."

Jon nodded. "Of course. Any friend of my fathers is welcome here."

His eyes moved to Thoros and then stopped on Sandor. A small frown creased his forehead.

"Are you the Hound?"

Sandor's lip twitched in anger at the name. "I used to be. I've joined up with this lot for now."

"So you are no longer aligned with the Lannister'?" Sansa spoke for the first time.

Her voice was not how he remembered it. No longer did she stammer over her words or shake when she spoke. Her voice was strong and demanding. Her eyes pierced him, refusing to look away. He

felt something like adrenaline pump through him. She was every bit as stunning as he remembered. Only now he wasn't looking at a girl, this was a woman.

Sandor realized he has been staring at her for too long and now everyone's eyes were on him.

"No, I hope the Lannister's all burn in hell like the demon fuckers they are." He spat.

Sansa's sharp eyes seemed to soften, which confused him. The old Sansa would have looked aghast at such a remark. This Sansa almost smiled.

"Good. Then we are of a like mind." She practically purred.

The sound stirred something in him, but he smashed it back down. He couldn't very well get a hard on while standing in front of everyone. They would know the reason and he would have to see the disgust on Sansa's face.

 _"What do I care what the wolf bitch thinks of me?"_ he thought furiously. He didn't need to be judged by the likes of her. He looked up and saw that she was still staring at him with those piercing blue eyes. She did not back down when caught staring. Instead she lifted her chin, almost in defiance. He couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his lips. His little bird had grown talons.

"We were hoping to pay for a few rooms as well. If not, we are fine camping in the woods."

"I'm not." Sandor snorted.

"That's fine, I will have a room made up for each of you. In the meantime, you can enjoy a meal from the kitchens."

"Thank you Lord Snow, you're most kind." Beric nodded.

Sandor made to leave but his eyes caught on Sansa again. She wasn't looking at him this time. Her face was turned and her eyes looked out the windows, lost in thought. In that light she almost looked like a Goddess.

 _"Put her out of your mind Clegane, the like's of her will never look twice at you."_

Sansa sat at the head of the table beside Jon. The steward had told them Beric Dondarrion was here. She remembered that he had been a friend of her fathers. Any ally in this dangerous time was welcome. The doors opened and three men entered behind the steward. Sansa didn't even need to look at all of them before she saw him. He was the tallest of the three and his face was unmistakable. He looked a little worse for wear but overall the same. A mix of emotions rushed through her. First came shock, and then fear. For a split second, she thought he had come to drag her back to the Lannister's. Then she remembered he had left them even before she did. Then, the most surprising feeling of all, she felt pleased.

Her time in Kings Landing had been horrible, but in all her time there she could remember only two men who had been kind to her with no ulterior motive. He had been one. She never would have told anyone, but she had felt safe around him. Jon spoke to Beric, though she barely listened. The Hound was staring at her with a strange look on his face. It made her feel uneasy, though she wouldn't show it. She stared back without fear. She had faced worse than he Hound.

"Are you the Hound?" Jon asked.

Sandor looked angry by the question. Then again, he always looked angry. "I used to be. I've joined up with this lot for now."

"So you are no longer aligned with the Lannister's?" Sansa hadn't meant to speak, but the words had spilled out. She didn't know why she needed to know, she just felt it was important.

"No, I hope the Lannister's all burn in hell like the demon fuckers they are."

A twisted joy moved inside her chest. She once would have found the statement shocking. Now it only pleased her. So few men spoke what was on their mind with complete honesty. Now that she thought of it, Sandor Clegane was one of the most honest men she had ever met.

"Good. Then we are of a like mind."

Again, he looked at her with that strange expression. He looked away for a moment before bringing his eyes back to her. Suddenly he smirked. It was just a small smirk, but it held a hint of wickedness in it. Not like the wickedness of Joffrey or Ramsey. There was no cruelty in his face. It was the kind of wickedness that would make a normal Lady weak in the knees. But she was no normal Lady. She was a wolf, and she would not blush for a Hound.

The conversation ended and the men began to walk away. Sansa looked out the window. Why, of all the men, had Sandor Clegane been brought back into her life? She shook her head. It didn't matter. He would be gone soon. She had too much to worry about, she didn't need him lurking around. Yet she couldn't help but turn back to watch his back as he walked out the doors. The last time she had seen him she had been a little bird trapped in a cage full of cats. But now was different. Now she was a wolf in her own territory. She was not afraid anymore, and she would surely show that to the Hound.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I won't be doing every chapter with duel perspectives, only when I feel it's necessary. Unless this is something you like? Let me know in the comments, I haven't decided. Please leave a comment if you're liking it so far, it encourages me to write more. I wasn't planning on updating today, after an eleven hour shift, but the comments I received were positive so far so I thought I would do a chapter two. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!**

Sansa moved down the hall with Brienne following behind her. Brienne was giving a report on movements in the South, but she wasn't listening. Her mind was still stuck on the Hound and the way he had looked at her earlier that day. What did that sort of look mean? She had seen men look at her with lust, and some with cruelty, and Peter looked at her with desire. But that hadn't been what she had seen. It had been years since she had seen the man. Why did he look at her now like he knew her?

"And I've heard that Cersei has moved a larger portion of her troops to Kings Landing-"

"Brienne," Sansa interrupted "How much do you know about men?"

The question obviously caught her off guard. "My Lady?"

"Men. How much experience do you have with them?"

She noticed a blush rising in Brienne's cheeks.

"Oh, I'm sorry if that was too personal."

"No, no it's quite alright. Well, I've never actually been with a man to be honest. Not many men are too interested in lying with a woman who could kill them with her bare hands."

"But you have had feelings for men? And they've had feeling back?"

"I have been interested in only a few men in my life and I believe only one of them has shown any interest back. But even still, I find I long for what I can never have."

"Hmm," Sansa nodded.

"Why, does my Lady have feelings for a man?"

"What? Oh, no. Gods no. I'm not so foolish anymore. I was just wondering about something."

"You know, perhaps it is not wise to close your heart off to all men. Perhaps someday you will find someone worthy of you." Brienne said gently.

"Doubtful." Sansa said.

"I didn't mean to cause offense."

Sansa smiled. "You didn't. I know you are only trying to be kind. I think I can find my way to my room from here, you're free to go."

Brienne bowed before leaving. Sansa made her way across the courtyard and into the sleeping chambers. As she made her way to her room she heard loud cursing coming from a door that sat ajar. She approached carefully.

"Fucking servants can't even bring hot water! This water feels like it was brought straight from the damned river."

Sansa pushed the door open slightly and peeked in. The Hound stood in the middle of the room beside a tub of water, and he appeared to be alone. He was also shirtless, which caught Sansa off guard. She had never actively imagined what he would look like without a shirt, but if she had thought of it she would have guessed his body was scarred just like his face. While there were some scars from what looked like blades, it was certainly not in a bad way. His thick shoulders held impressive muscle and his arms looked like they could crush a man. She leaned forward to get a better look and door creaked slightly.

The Hound spun around with fury on his face until he saw it who it was, then it was replaced by shock. Sansa froze, embarrassed at being caught.

"What are you doing? Sneaking up on me is a good way to get yourself killed girl," He growled.

"I wasn't sneaking," she frowned. "I heard you cursing and I came to see what the matter was. And do not call me _girl._ "

"Are you my damned guard now?"

"Do you need a guard now, Hound? You're losing your touch." She quipped.

He stared at her for a moment before pointing to the tub. "The waters freezing."

"So?"

"So? So I asked for a fucking warm bath, not to have my ass frozen off."

"Then heat it yourself. The maids have more important things to tend to than the whining of a man."

That same smirk from earlier appeared on his face. "You've certainly become a ferocious little thing, haven't you?"

"I have become what I needed to in order to survive."

"As do we all," the Hound nodded.

He seemed to realize he wasn't wearing a shirt and grabbed one from his bed. "Why are you still standing there gawking at me?"

Sansa scoffed. "Gawking? I already explained why I'm here. I didn't even know this was your room, so you needn't flatted yourself. I simply wished to make sure you were alright."

"Yeah, well in the future you needn't bother your pretty little head with my wellbeing, girl. I can take care of myself."

She nodded. "Understood. And you will understand that if you call me girl again I'll have you beheaded."

The Hound raised his eyebrows. "You can bloody well try."

Sansa smiled before pulling the door closed. "Sleep well Hound."

Sandor placed his foot into the tub and immediately pulled it back out. "Fucking servants can't even bring hot water! This water feels like it was brought straight from the damned river."

How difficult was it to bring hot water? As he was shaking his foot off he heard a creak from the door. He spun around, ready to curse off a maid. But it was not a maid that stood at the door. Sansa Stark stood in the doorway, her hand upon the handle and a look of surprise mirroring his own. Why the fuck was she staring at him like that?

"What are you doing? Sneaking up on me is a good way to get yourself killed girl."

"I wasn't sneaking, I heard you cursing and I came to see what the matter was. And do not call me _girl._ "

He supposed that made sense, but he was feeling embarrassed and wouldn't let her see that. "Are you my damned guard now?"

"Do you need a guard now, Hound? You're losing your touch."

He stared at her. He hadn't been expecting such a sharp reply. The old Sansa never could have said that to him. He could even imagine what she would have said. _'N-no, I'm sorry Sir. Excuse me.'_ Unable to think of anything else to say he pointed at the tub.

"The waters freezing."

"So?"

"So? So I asked for a fucking warm bath, not to have my ass frozen off."

"Then heat it yourself. The maids have more important things to tend to than the whining of a man."

Again with the sharp response. His little bird sure was a vicious thing now. If it were anyone else speaking to him this way he would have knocked them on their ass by now, but he didn't want to hit her. She had had enough of that to last her a lifetime. Instead he smiled. "You've certainly become a ferocious little thing, haven't you?"

"I have become what I needed to in order to survive."

He didn't doubt that, but a part of him wished she was still the frightened little thing he remembered. He knew how wrong it was to think that. "As do we all."

A cold breeze blew through the room and he realized he was shirtless. He grabbed a shirt from his bed. "Why are you still standing there gawking at me?"

He didn't know why he said it. Sansa Stark would never gawk at him.

"Gawking? I already explained why I'm here. I didn't even know this was your room, so you needn't flatted yourself. I simply wished to make sure you were alright."

He had known this, but it still stung his pride. "Yeah well in the future you needn't bother your pretty little head with my wellbeing, girl. I can take care of myself."

She nodded. "Understood. And you will understand that if you call me girl again I'll have you beheaded."

He wanted to laugh. She thought she could threaten him? "You can bloody well try."

She smiled and began to close the door. "Sleep well Hound."

He was glad that she didn't see his stunned face. She had never smiled at him before. At least not with any real feeling behind it. Any look she had given him in Kings Landing hand been cursory, something she had done automatically because she thought she had to. But just then it had been a real smile. He had seen it in her eyes and it nearly knocked the breath out of him. Beautiful highborn Lady's didn't smile at him like that. In fact, the only looks had ever gotten from them had either been fear or sick curiosity at his scarred face.

But Sansa had never looked at him like that. At least not to his face. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

 _"Why the fuck are you thinking these things Clegane? She only smiled at you because she was being polite."_

But then, this Sansa didn't seem to do anything because she felt she had too. He shook his head again. All these thoughts were doing was giving him a headache. He decided then and there to go down to the brothel, a place he was sure he would get Sansa off his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I kinda went crazy and wrote this one in an hour. This is a pretty short chapter but I wanted to get something out there. Anyways, comments are appreciated!**

Sandor stomped across the stable grounds, fury radiating off him with every step. Everyone he passed scurried off at the sight of him. At least his reputation still held. The whore house had been a spectacular failure the night before. He had tried fucking three different women, but each time Sansa's face would flash across his eyes, her smile toying with him. He had ended up leaving unsatisfied. He burst into the dining hall. Beric and Thoros sat a table eating breakfast.

"Maid, bring me food," he demanded.

The woman rushed off without question. He sat himself beside Thoros.

"You're in a mood this morning, aren't you Clegane." Thoros remarked.

"Fuck off." Sandor sneered as the maid brought a plate to him.

He seized it roughly from her hands and began to tear into the food.

"We were planning on going on a short hunting trip today. Would you care to join us?" Beric asked.

"What for, I thought you came here for supplies. Just buy your meat," He said through a mouthful of food.

"We would but they are running low. Besides it's cheaper this way."

"I'll pass on traipsing around the forest with you two. I don't like hunting."

"And what are you going to do on your own today? Planning on terrifying a whole room full of maids? Or perhaps you'll just follow Sansa Stark around like a lost pup," Thoros said lightly.

Sandor choked on his food. "What?"

"Oh, come now. We both saw the way you were staring at her yesterday. You looked like you wanted to take her right then and there."

Blood rose into his face. Damn this man for being so perceptive.

"You're out of your fucking mind. I don't want anything to do with the Stark whore." Just saying the words felt wrong.

"You know, you curse more when you're lying. And watch your mouth," Beric said.

"You don't know what you're talking about. What do I need with a proper little Lady?"

"Well wants and needs are entirely different. Besides, I don't even try to understand the inner workings of your mind Clegane. Nor would I want to."

"I swear to seven hells, if either of go around throwing out this little theory of yours I'll-"

"For God's sake, calm down man. What do we look like? Do you honestly think we have nothing better to do that spread gossip about you?"

Sandor grunted. "I'll say it one last time and be done with it. I don't give two shits about Sansa Stark."

It was, of course, at this moment that the doors to the hall opened and she walked in. Her red hair flowed freely behind her, held together by only two small braids. She wore a thick fur once more, though it hung loosely across her shoulders. She wasn't looking up as she entered, instead her clear blue eyes stared intently at a piece of paper in her hand. His eyes followed her as she walked past their table. At the last second her eyes flitted up to meet his, followed by a single raised eyebrow. He hadn't expected her to look right at him and did the only that came natural in that moment, he glared. She looked back down at her paper and continued on. He watched her all the way until she exited through another door.

"Yeah, of course you don't." Thoros said casually.

"I warn you Clegane, stay away from her. We don't need you going and getting your head chopped off because you couldn't control yourself and you end up assaulting her," Beric warned.

"I would never do that," He snarled. "What do you take me for, a fucking animal?"

"Well you didn't get the name the Hound for nothing." Thoros smirked.

"Bedsides, it isn't animals that rape women, it's men. And you are that."

Sandor stood and stormed away from the table. He didn't need their shit. He would never force himself on Sansa.

 _"Then why did you used to fantasize about her?"_

He closed his eyes. It was true. Back as Kings Landing he hadn't been able to stop his mind from occasionally thinking of her in that way. But his fantasies had always, _always_ started with _her_ coming to _him_. He had never dreamed of forcing himself on her. He had never forced himself on any woman. He had done more horrible things in his life than one could imagine, but never that.

When he reached his room, he saw that a maid was changing his sheets.

"Bring me wine, woman." he commanded. She fled quickly and came back moments later with a pitcher in hand. He tore it away from her and she left once more. He fell onto his bed. He had hardly gotten any rest the night before and he felt sleep pulling at his eyes.

 _He stood in the entrance to the Great Hall. He was back at Kings Landing again. Light drafted through the windows and bits of dust floated through the air, filling the hall. A sound caught his attention and saw that someone else was in the room. She sat near the steps in front of the throne. He realized she was crying, her soft sobs echoed around him. Her back was to him and her head was bent forward. He didn't need to see her face to know it was Sansa. He would know her red hair anywhere._

 _He approached slowly. He didn't want to see her. He hated listening to women cry. But something forced his feet forward until he was beside her. He didn't want to speak. She was likely crying because of something Joffrey had done, the evil bastard. She looked up at him before he could speak._

 _"Hello Sandor."_

 _He peered down at her face. There was something very different about her. Her hair and clothes were the same as she always wore here, but her face was not. It was thinner, sharper, older. Her eyes did not hold tears or sadness. Instead there was a strength in them that almost frightened him. When she stood, he saw that she was at least half a foot taller than he remembered her being._

 _"What's wrong?" she smiled._

 _"You look different."_

 _"Is that bad?"_

 _"No," he said in almost a whisper._

 _She smiled again. "Good."_

 _She lifted her hand slowly until it rested on his cheek. He found that he couldn't move. He breathed in slowly. She smelt of flowers. She moved her hand slowly to his mouth, tracing her way around it. His mind shouted at him that this wasn't right. Sansa would never touch him in this way. He ignored it. It felt too nice. A woman had never looked at him the way Sansa was looking at him now._

 _"Are you afraid of me?" she asked._

 _"Yes," He replied honestly._

 _She grinned at him. "Good."_

 _She leaned into him so that her mouth was close to his. He wanted to kiss her but he still could not move. He looked down into her eyes in time to see a hint of wickedness pass through them. In a flash of movement, she sunk her teeth into his throat._

Sandor bolted upright with a gasp. Both the feeling of her hand on his cheek and her teeth in his throat lingered on his skin.

"What the hell." He muttered.

He had never had that dream before.

Sansa rushed up the stairs to the main hall. She read the paper in her hand over again, making sure she had understood it clearly. She hurried through the doors. Even though she did not look up she was aware of the Hound sitting at a table ahead. His presence left a tense feeling in the air. As she past him she glanced up. He was staring right at her. Her heart jumped to her throat, but she concealed it. When her eyes met his he glared at her. What was his problem? She hadn't done anything to him, at least that she knew of. She moved on and entered the private chambers beyond where Jon, Tormund, and Davos sat.

"Jon, we've recievec a Raven. Walder Frey is dead."

Jon looked up in surprise. "What?"

"He's dead and his oldest two sons are as well. His Bastard Ryger has taken command."

"How did they die?" Davos asked.

"Well, it would appear that his sons were… chopped up and baked into a pie. Which was then fed to him. And then his throat was cut."

"God's." Jon whispered. "Whoever killed them must have truly hated them."

"Well then the suspect list must be a mile long." Davos said.

Sansa looked back down at the letter and smiled. Whoever had done it deserved to be rewarded. One more enemy down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, sorry for that weird unreadable thing that was on here before, I don't know what that was! Thanks so much to those who messaged me about it!**

 **Also, I got some PM's with some people who were confused about the characterization of Sansa and Sandor. I've read many SansaxSandor fics and I know what they are typically like. Sansa is fragile and frightened and is left at the mercy of the Hound. And there isn't anything wrong with that in fact I've read many of those that I really love. But this is Post-Ramsey Sansa. This is the Sansa who stared down the man who raped and beat her and told him he would die tomorrow like she was telling him she would see him for brunch. This is the Sansa who fed a man to his own dogs and smiled. This is the Sansa who would have stood on that battlefield and watched her little brother run towards her and not moved an inch, because she knew it was a trap and hopeless. This Sansa is hard as fuck and doesn't take any shit. Also, this is post- Broken man Sandor. When we see him again he is helping some people build a church at little personal gain to himself. He's still a bad ass, bad mouthed killing machine but I got the impression he was a little gentler.**

 **Anyways, comments are greatly appreciated!**

"Lady Sansa, I don't think it is a good idea for you to be going to the Godswood on your own. There are all sorts of unsavory men around here, who knows what might happen."

Sansa and Brienne made their way towards the large doors leaving the castle.

"Whoever do you mean?" Sansa asked.

"Well for one, that red haired wildling. The way he looks at me is disturbing. And then that Hound…"

"What about me?"

They both stopped at the sight of the Hound walking towards them. Brienne made to pull her sword.

"Oh, put that away woman. My pride couldn't bare losing to you again."

Sansa glanced between the two. "Have you two met?"

"She didn't tell you? I figured being the only person to ever beat me in single combat you'd be shouting it from the rooftops. It's quite an accomplishment."

"It was hardly worth remembering." Brienne replied stiffly.

"You're lucky you're good with a sword, what with being one of the most brutish women I've ever seen. I can't imagine a man alive who'd wanna fuck you."

"You will not speak to her like that!" Sansa snapped.

"Oh, have I finally offended you little bird?"

"Apologize now." She demanded.

Sandor laughed. "I've never apologized for anything in my life and I won't be starting now. If you have nothing else to say I'll be glad for you to get the fuck out of my way."

"Why are you being so vile?"

"I've always been this way. The only difference is before, I was surrounded by so many evil cunts you didn't notice."

"Yes, I suppose that does put a new light on it." She said, her voice dripping with indifference.

"Now could you get the fuck out of my way, I'm hungry."

Sansa laughed in disbelief. "It's you who stopped us Hound. But have it your way, I have more important matters to attend to than listening to your insults."

She pushed her way past him and walked out the gates. Brienne followed her a short way longer before Sansa stopped and turned.

"Really Brienne. I would like to be alone. You can wait for me at the stables, I'll meet you there afterwards."

Brienne sighed. "Very Well. Don't be out too long."

"Yes mum." Sansa smirked.

Once Brienne left her she continued the rest of the way to the Godswood. It was eerily quiet, with white snow clinging to every surface. She stood in stark contrast to the white woods, with her black furs and red hair. She sat on one of the thick roots. The cold air burned her lungs and she reveled in it. After the pain she had endured with Ramsey, everything else just seemed like a minor discomfort. A twig snapped behind her and she spun around. The Hound stood about twenty feet away, peering at her through the trees.

"I never was good at being quite." He grumbled.

"What are you doing here? Why did you follow me?"

"You said you had important matters to attend to. I wanted to see what you had in mind."

She narrowed her eyes at him as he walked closer. She was suddenly very aware of how alone they were out here. He was close enough that he could be beside her in seconds if he wanted. She had no weapon, and even if she did she didn't really know how to use it. Her heart beat quickened, though she chastised herself for it. He never, in her years of knowing him, given any indication that he wanted to hurt her. But then again, they had never really been alone before.

"And? What do you think?" she asked, motioning to the surrounding trees.

"I think this is pointless. And cold."

She laughed. "To tell you the truth, in recent years I've thought the same. Even if the Gods exist, they are cruel and indifferent to our suffering. I only come out here to be alone."

He stared at her intently before taking a few more steps towards her. She instinctively took a step back. He stopped at this, look from her feet to her face.

"Are you afraid of me, girl?" he rasped.

She considered the question seriously. "My instincts tell me I should be. They tell me that standing in the empty woods with only a man who has admitted to me how much he loves killing, I should flee. But no, I'm not afraid. After what I endured from Ramsey Bolton, you seem almost kind."

"Aye, I heard about him. Some have said he was like Joffrey."

"He was worse." She sneered. "Joffrey was an entitled, malicious monster. But he was just an idiot boy with a lot of power. Ramsey was smart. He knew what to do to make it hurt the most. He played games with mind and body and he was a very good player. But as it turns out, so am I."

He stared at her in silence for a long while. Sansa began to turn away to leave.

"You're different."

"Yes." She replied simply.

He nodded. "Good. Fragile things don't survive in this world."

Sansa sighed. "Do you want to come and sit with me?"

"What?" he seemed surprised by what she had said.

"Come and sit. I'm not going to force you to pray, if that's what you're worried about.

…

Sandor stared at Sansa. She wanted him to sit beside her?

"Come and sit. I'm not going to force you to pray, if that's what you're worried about.

No, that was not what he was worried about. What if Beric was right? What if when he was beside her, with her silky white skin so close to his and the smell of lavender thick in her hair, he couldn't control himself? What if he released that part of him that he saved for battle, the beast within him, right now? There was nobody around to stop him. Sansa would be helpless. But yet, the thought of being near her was appealing. Just like in his dream, he moved towards her without really thinking. He sat a few feet away. An awkward silence stretched between them. He didn't know what to say to her. He should have just left.

"I never thanked you."

He looked up at her. "For what?"

"For stopping me from pushing Joffrey off that bridge. I know I would have died too. But now he is dead, and I'm not. So, thank you."

He grunted. He was never good with thank yous. "Maybe I should have let you. Would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it would have made things worse. We'll never know. All I do know is that for that instance I have you to thank that I am still here."

"Stop getting sentimental girl. I was only doing my job, I would have stopped anyone from killing him. You aren't special."

Anger flashed in her eyes. "I never said I was. You don't need to be so angry all the time."

"I also don't need to be lectured by women." He growled.

Sansa stood. "Gods, you're impossible. I tried showing one sign of kindness and you react to it with contempt."

"I don't need your pity!" he shouted, now standing as well.

"I have _never_ pitied you. I felt far too sorry for myself to notice your problems. I'm only trying to be kind."

"I don't need your kindness either."

"Yes, I can see that." She sneered. "Don't worry, I no longer make mistakes twice."

In a flurry of snow, she spun around, her hair like a blaze of fire in the cold air. She marched away from him and he was left standing alone in the dead woods. Not for the first time in his life he hated himself for destroying everything that was good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: This chapter contains some sexual content. But who am I kidding, that's what most of you are here for.**

Sandor scrubbed his face roughly in the water basin beside his bed. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand over his wet face. He normally didn't keep a mirror in his room, but he also didn't care enough to have it removed. His mind replayed the scene from the Godswood that had occurred yesterday on repeat. Sansa's angry eyes at his rude remarks. Her soft laugh when he had told her he thought what she was doing was pointless. Her cold tone when she had said she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. The gentle way she had asked if he wanted to sit beside her.

He slammed his fist onto the table. What was the matter with him? Sansa had only been trying to be kind and yet he had treated her like an enemy. He didn't know why he had said the things he did. He didn't want to hurt her. But he also worried that if he let her get too close he wouldn't be able to stop himself. She had been hurt so much in the past, he didn't want to be another source of pain. He had decided it would be best for him to stay away from her altogether. He heard laughter outside his window. There would be a feast tonight in the Great Hall and Beric, Thoros, and he had been invited. In truth, he didn't want to go. He was in no mood to be in a room of obnoxious drunken Lords. But Beric had forbidden the maids from bring him any food to his room, so he had no choice. He wiped his face and pulled on a shirt before walking out.

The Hall was already filled with men when he reached it. Musicians played in the corner and the tables were set high with food. He threw himself down beside Beric.

"Glad you decided to join us." Thoros smiled.

"I didn't have much a choice, did I?" Sandor frowned.

"You always have choice," commented Beric.

"Yeah, I could have threatened to kill the maid to get her bring me food. I just don't have the energy today."

"You're not as frightening as you think you are Clegane." Said Thoros.

"I beat him, didn't I?" he said, pointing a thumb at Beric.

"Aye. But you don't kill innocents anymore. That's why you're here with us."

"Well don't I feel special."

He pulled a plate of food to him and began to eat. He looked around the hall and saw that men were already getting drunk off the wine and whores had come to earn their pay. As his eyes moved along he found what he was looking for. Sansa sat beside Jon at the head of the table. She was leaning close to him as he spoke and laughed when he pulled away. For a moment, he wondered if they were fucking. It certainly wouldn't be the first-time siblings had lain together, and they were only half siblings after all. Perhaps Jon Snow was handsome enough to even to have his own sister. But he quickly shook his head free of that thought. Jon and Sansa were certainly no Cersei and Jaime Lannister. They were Starks, and if the Starks were one thing, it was honorable.

As he watched her, she looked away from Jon and her eyes fell on him, catching him staring. The smile slid from her face and she firmly turned her face from him. He frowned. That was just like her, to turn her nose up at him.

 _"Perhaps you deserve it for the way you treated her today."_

He glared at his plate. No matter how he treated her, it didn't give her the right to think she was better than him.

 _"She is better than you."_

He gripped his fork in anger at his thoughts. Once again, his eyes moved up to her. She was talking to Brienne now, a small crease between her eyebrows. He idly wondered what was causing her trouble and if he could kill whoever had caused it. She turned and once again met his eyes. She frowned now. He looked away quickly. How pathetic must he look, gazing up at her like a fool. He chanced a glance back up and saw that she had pushed her chair away from the table and was now standing. She made her wat past the table and began walking towards him. Men's eyes followed her as she went. She finally stopped behind him.

"Hound, may I speak to you outside?" she said in a casual tone, though there was a hint of ice behind it.

"What for?" he asked, not looking around at her.

"Now, please."

She walked away towards the door and left him no choice but to follow her. Once they were outside she spun around, her eyes alight with anger.

"Why do keep staring at me?"

"What are you talking about?" he feigned innocence.

"Every time I look at you you're staring at me with this look in your eye. And I want to know what your problem is and why you're always looking at me."

"I didn't think it was crime to look at you."

"It isn't, but you obviously have something on your mind. And after yesterday afternoon, after what you said, I don't know what you want from me."

"I don't want anything from you, girl."

That certainly wasn't entirely true, but he would never get what he wanted from her, so he could never let her know that part of his mind. The thought of seeing her horror and disgust was more than he could bare. Perhaps she would even laugh. And then he would lose his temper and who knew what would happen.

"Don't call me girl." She snapped.

"Fine. I don't want anything from you _woman._ "

He turned and began to walk away.

"Look, if you care about me at all-"

He spun back around, a look of pure fury on his face. He practically ran to her, stopping only inches from her face. Her eyes widened and her breath caught her in her throat, but other than that she did not back away.

"You think I care about you?" he shouted in her face, so close he could feel her breath. "I don't give a damn about you! You think you are so high and mighty, with your castle and your brother being King in the North. You think you are better than me, I can see it on your face. I could beat you into the ground right now."

"Then do it." She challenged.

He wrapped his hand around her throat, though he didn't apply much pressure.

"Why aren't you running away back your feast and your brother?"

"As I said before, you won't hurt me."

He stared into her eyes, so unflinching and steady. "You listen to me girl, I don't care about you. I never have."

She stared back into his eyes, unblinking. "Then why did you try taking me with you? That night after the Blackwater. Instead of escaping quickly and ensuring you got away, you came to my room. You tried to get me to leave with you. If you had been caught you would have been killed. So if you don't care about me, why did you risk it?"

He released her and took a step back. "That was a foolish moment of weakness."

She shook her head. "That isn't good enough. I don't believe you. That wasn't the first time you had been kind to me."

He turned away. They stood there for a long time, with the cold air swirling around them, surrounded by the darkness of the night. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet.

"I did it because you were the one good thing in that hell. You were a light of hope that not everyone in this world is a monster. I made the mistake of growing an attachment to you."

"And what would have happened if I had gone with you?"

He looked at her. This wasn't the first time he had thought about this question. "I would have taken you to your mother."

"Would you have?"

He inhaled. "Yes."

"Is that all that would have happened?" she asked in barely more than a whisper.

He stared at her face, guilt and shame pounding through his veins. He knew that wasn't all he would have wanted to happen. He remembered what he had hoped would happen.

"You were still only a child."

"That isn't what I asked."

He walked slowly back towards her. "Are you asking if I would have fucked you? Are you asking if I would have taken you the first chance I got? Whether that had been at an inn or in the cold woods? Yeah, maybe. You were a pretty little thing, with so much innocence it could drive a man crazy. I don't think there's a man alive that wouldn't want to be inside your cunt."

She had inhaled sharply at this statement, her lips pressed together. There it was, the fear.

"But just because I would have fucked you, that doesn't mean I care about you. You were a soft, warm body and that was all I wanted."

He turned and stalked away towards his room, but Sansa's voice stopped him once more.

"Don't worry Hound. You don't have to explain to me that fucking someone and caring for them is not the same thing. I have plenty of experience with that."

He was glad that his back was to her, so that she didn't see the sadness her words caused him. He walked back to his room, leaving Sansa standing alone in the cold.

….

Sansa watched the Hound stalk back to his room. She tried keeping her breathing calm. For a long time she had suspected what would have happened if she had gone with him. The Hound was a primal, instinctual man, and she knew what was on his mind when he had looked at her on that night of the Blackwater. She had thought of it often, sometimes with regret that she hadn't gone and others with relief. But now standing there, listening to him admit it, a different feeling had come over her. She didn't know how to explain it, as she had never felt anything like it before. When he stood inches from her, with his hot breath on her face and his hand on her throat, she had felt a pull of something else. Something that made her want him to pull her closer to him, to take her back to his room and show her exactly what he meant. The realization had nearly taken her breath away. She had never thought of the Hound in that way before. Hells, she had never thought of any man in that way.

Sure, when she was young she had dreamed of knights and romance. But there was nothing romantic about the thoughts she was suddenly having of the Hound.

She made her way back to her room and closed the door. She pulled her coat from her shoulders and undid the lacing on her dress. Once she was in her sleeping gown she laid on her bed. The image of the Hounds shirtless body came to her mind, and the images that followed would have made a younger Sansa blush. She felt the dampness between her legs and bit her lip. She had never had these feelings with Ramsey. She imagined being in the woods, running away from Kings Landing with the Hound. She imagined how frightened she would have been. But in her mind the Hound pulled her to him. His hands moved along her body, gentle and slow. She imagined what it would have been like to lose her maidenhood to the Hound instead of to Ramsey, and found her hand had made its way beneath her gown.

When she touched herself down there she gave a small gasp. The dampness had soaked her undergarments. She had never touched herself before, but she understood the concept. She had heard maids and other women talk of it and how good it could feel. She moved her fingers about, trying to find what felt best. When she found the rhythm she liked best she kept at it. More images flashed through her mind. The Hound holding her against the door of some inn, pushing himself inside her. Her hands wrapped around his neck, letting him. The Hound with his hands in her hair and his mouth to her neck, pressing her into the damp earth of the woods. The Hound killing Ramsey while she watched. The rush of release that came over her body was sudden and extreme. She had never felt anything like it and it made her cry out.

She fell back into her bed, her breath coming fast and shallow. She removed her hand from herself and wiped it off. She took a deep breath to slow her heart beat. She blushed slightly. How was she supposed to face the Hound now?


	6. Chapter 6

Sandor stood leaning against the stable doors, watching the people move about the yard. He was in a horrid mood, as he had quite often been lately. After last night, he was sure he had scared Sansa off for good. She had looked at him with shock and what he was sure was terror when he had said what he would have done to her. It was better this way. If she didn't speak to him he would have no chance to go and ruin her further. As though summoned by his thoughts, he spotted Sansa crossing the yard. He didn't think she had seen him, as she was looking the other way, but she would notice him soon as she was walking towards him.

Sure enough, when she was only ten feet away she turned her face towards him their eyes met. He saw her jaw tighten as her eyes flicked from his feet to his face.

"Hound." She nodded.

He was surprise that she had address him at all. "Little bird." He replied.

A small smile pulled at her lips. "Why do you still insist on calling me that?"

"It's what I'm used to." He shrugged.

"But I am not a caged bird anymore."

"We're all in cages of some kind."

She stared at him. "And what is your cage?"

 _The unsatisfiable desire I have for you. The fact that every time I look at you my instincts tell me to pull you to me, to feel your warmth and not let you go. But the fact that I can never do that, because your fear and repulsion would destroy me._

"Hatred."

She sighed. "Yes, I suppose that has caused the ruin of many men."

"As have you I'm sure."

Her eyes snapped up to him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled. "Nothing."

Just then they were approached by a squire. "Jon Snow would like to speak with you."

"Very well," Sansa nodded "Tell him I'll be right there."

"No, not you my Lady, him." He said motioning to Sandor.

"What does he want with me?" he asked.

"I don't know, he just asked for you," the squire shrugged.

Sansa looked at him. "Alright, we can go together."

They followed the squire back to Jon's room. Sansa walked beside him, and at one point her hand brushed against his own. He yanked his hand away quickly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. If she had noticed, she didn't show it on her face.

They reached Jon's room and found him sitting behind his desk. He looked up from some papers when they entered.

"Sandor Clegane." He nodded. His eyes moved to Sansa. "Sansa, I wasn't expecting you to come. Though I suppose I should have invited you as well, seeing as this involves you. Please, have a seat."

Sandor sat across from Jon while Sansa sat beside him. He narrowed his eyes at the young leader. What had he meant when he said it involved Sansa?

"As you know, Beric and Thoros plan to leave here in a few days. I've tried speaking with them, to convince them to stay but they won't hear it. They insist on not joining any side of an army."

"If you're going to ask me to try and convince them to stay you're wasting your breath. They don't listen to me."

"No, that's not what I was going to ask. I accept their choice. I was going to ask you if you would consider staying. From what I've heard you're a damn good soldier, and we could really use you."

Sandor shook his head. "I don't do that anymore. I'm done fighting other men's wars."

"This is not a war on men. What is coming does not bleed blood or breath air. Whether you are here with us or out there, you will need to fight when the time comes. But if you stay you will be here in the thick of everything, by our side." He said, motioning to Sansa.

He hadn't thought about that. Beric had told him of the white walkers and that they were coming. He imagined them coming here to Winterfell, of them crashing over the walls. He imagined Sansa, terrified as she tried to flee, with no one to protect her.

"I don't know how much I could do." He shrugged.

"Quite a bit I'm sure. Every man counts. Though in the meantime leading up to the war, I do have a particular request of you. There are many dangers here and more on the way. I hope you don't think it is beneath you, but I would like for you to be my sisters personal guard."

Sandor stared at him. Was he serious? He looked to Sansa and she was also looking at her brother in surprise.

"Jon, I do have Brienne," She stated.

"Yes, but she can't always be there. My sister told me how you protected her in Kings Landing. How you offered to help her escape. I believe I can trust you."

Sandor stared awkwardly between Sansa and Jon. A part of him wanted to say yes. If he was her personal guard he would be around her always. Another part of him wanted to say no for the same reason. It would do him no good to torture himself.

"I don't know that would be wise." He said gruffly.

"Why not?" Jon frowned.

Sandor looked back to Sansa. She was watching him closely. He knew, looking into her eyes, that he couldn't do it. She wouldn't want to be around him all the time, not after what he had said last night.

"I just don't think-"

"I think it's a great idea." Sansa cut in.

Both men looked at her. Sandor frowned. What game was she playing at, wanting to keep him around. He didn't understand.

"Well if Sansa thinks it's a good idea, it should be fine," said Jon.

Sandor looked between the two before sighing. "Well alright, if I must. But I want to be paid well for my services."

"Of course. I would like you to start straight away. Sansa wanted to go into town I believe. If you could escort her?"

Sandor gave short nod. "Fine. Let's get going girl."

He stood and left the room before anyone could say anything more. What had just happened? In a span of five minutes he had become Sansa Starks personal guard. Why had he said yes? Why had she wanted him too? He heard footsteps and turned to see Sansa hurrying to catch up.

"Why are you walking so quickly?" she asked.

"You want to go into Winter town, so let's go."

"Well we don't have to run, there's no rush."

He slowed his pacing slightly. "Why do you want me to be your personal guard?"

"What?"

"You said it would be a great idea for me to be your personal guard. Why?"

"You're a great warrior."

"So is your woman guard. She beat me in fact."

"Yes, but as Jon pointed out she can't be there all the time and I often have to send her away on business. I'll need you here then."

He knew he was picking and choosing words, but hearing her say 'I'll need you' settled him. They made their way to Winter town where Sansa moved around the stalls, buying things she needed. He offered to carry the bags once they grew large and heavy, but she refused. She preferred to carry it all herself. When she was finished, they made their way back up the road to Winterfell.

"Thank you for coming with me," she smiled.

"I didn't have much of a choice, did I? What with being your guard."

"I suppose, but thank you all the same."

When they reached the gates, he turned to her. "Look, about what I said last night. I didn't mean it when I said I would have fucked you. I only said that to scare you. If you had come with me I wouldn't have-"

"Hound," she said, holding up a hand. "Don't. You've never lied to me before, so don't start now."

Her words threw him off guard. Of course, he had lied to her. He had lied last night when he said he didn't care about her.

"Sansa…"

"I like your honesty. It's refreshing. So many people scheme and lie to get what they want, but not you. You take what you want when you want it and you don't waste time with silly games."

"Not all the time." He breathed.

"Why not?"

"Because sometimes no matter how badly you want something, you can't have it."

"Why not?" she asked again.

"What are you, a child? Because sometimes you just can't! I'm sure there are many things you want and can't have!"

She lifted her chin. "Not anymore."

"Oh really? I'm sure you'd like your family back, but that's not going to happen." He snarled, he unjustified anger firing back up.

She looked hurt but didn't walk away. "And what is it you want that you can't have."

He tightened his jaw. He had seen the question coming. It was why he had said something hurtful, to drive her away before she could ask him. He couldn't tell her the truth of course.

"My good looks back."

There was a moment of silence before Sansa broke into a fit of laughter. He had always known she found him hideous, but to hear her laughter that he could be good looking made him feel sick. He wanted to hit her. To hurt her like she was hurting him. He reached out and grabbed the front of her dress, pulling her to him.

"You think that's funny? You think the idea of me ever being hansom is big joke? I know all you see is a monster."

She had stopped laughing, but was still smiling. "Oh Sandor, that isn't why I was laughing. It's just that with all of the problems we have in our life that's what you choose to want?"

He released her and took a step back. That was the first time she had ever said his true name and it sent a thrill through him. She shook her head, still smiling. She began to walk to the gates but stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and Sandor? I've seen true monsters, and you are not one."

She stared after her as she left, his heart hammering in his chest at her words. She didn't think he was a monster? That was news to him. The way she had said his name and smiled made his heart pound in a way that it never had before. It also made the prospect of being so close and yet unable to touch her all the more horrible.

 **Note: I'm a pretty quick writer, but comments definitely help my motivation! If you like what you've read don't be shy to leave comment, it make me supa dupa happy. Also, a special thanks to WatchHeart7076 and magnus374 for commenting on all my chapters. You guys are cool!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Another day another chapter! Please don't forget to comment, I get super excited when I see new comments. They're like your way of paying for my time and effort. It's always nice seeing your work appreciated.**

Sansa lied in her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was late, and she knew mostly everyone in the castle had gone to sleep. She thought back to earlier that day when Jon had suggested the Hound be her personal guard. She had been surprised at first, but had quickly grow accustomed to the idea. He was a rude, bad-mannered, ass, but he was one hell of a fighter. She remembered when he had saved her from those rapists at King's Landing. He had cut through them like they were nothing more than rags. He had come for her when no one else would, even though she knew Joffrey hadn't told him to find her. She had often wondered what that meant. Back then the memory of him cutting the men open with a vicious fury had frightened her. But now it gave her comfort.

She remembered the way he had picked her up afterwards and carried her to safety. She had tried thanking him a few days later but he had thrown it back in her face. At the time, she had thought he was simply cruel, but he had only been telling her the truth. She couldn't recall him ever telling her a lie. He didn't cushion his blows.

The image of him carrying her appeared in her mind again, though now it was a bit different. She imagined him taking her somewhere else, where there were no bothersome hand maidens or Lannister's. She imagined him taking her back her room…

She kicked the covers off of her and her hand found its way beneath her gown. The images flowed through her mind like a story. He laid her on the bed and ran a hand through her hair. He told her everything would be alright and that he would never hurt her. In her mind, she leaned up and kissed him, slowly and passionately. She had never kissed anyone in real life before, so she had no idea how it would feel, but she had heard it was very nice. She imagined him pulling her already torn dress from her body, kissing her skin as he went. She knew that none of these things sounded like something the Hound would ever do, he was far too rough for that, but it was still nice to imagine. She saw him running his hand up her leg and imagined her hand was his, moving in and out of her.

The last image did it for her. She couldn't help but cry out as she came. There was a rustling of movement, and the door flew open. The Hound stood in the door way with one hand on the door handle and the other on his sword.

Sansa froze is shock, her hand still beneath her gown. The Hounds eyes darted quickly around the room before falling on her, a frown on his face.

"I thought I heard…"

He stopped, his eyes moving from her face to her hand. It took less than half a second for him to put the pieces together. He inhaled sharply before stepping back and slamming the door closed. Sansa stared wide eyed at the door in horror. He had seen her. He had seen what she had been doing. A fierce blush rose to her face and she closed her eyes. There were few things that could embarrass her anymore, but that was one of them. She fell back in her bed and covered her face with her arm.

…..

Sandor stood outside the door with his hand still on the handle. He knew it had taken him far too long to figure out what had been going on. When he had heard her cry out he had rushed in without thinking. When he saw her panicked face and her hand beneath her gown he had immediately realized what was going on. He took a slow breath to calm his pounding heart. He hadn't meant to invade her privacy. But the longer he stood there, the more realty set it in on what she had been doing.

She had been masturbating. Sansa Stark had been masturbating. Try as he might to fight the images away, they still came. He saw her on the bed with her head thrown back. He saw her pushing her hand beneath her under garments and her fingers moving over her wet cunt. He tightened his jaw at the image of her rubbing herself into a frenzy, enough so to cry out. He had become incredibly hard and the tightening in his pants was uncomfortable. He wondered who she had been think about to get such a response. Probably one of her hansom knights. The thought made him angry, knowing he could never make her feel that way.

He was about to walk away when the door flew open. Sansa stood in the dim light, her hair wild and her eyes livid.

"What do you think you were doing, bursting into my room like that?" she hissed, obviously trying to keep her voice low.

"I'm your guard. So that's what I was doing, guarding!"

"Shh!" she warned. She looked down the hall. "Come in, quickly!"

He reluctantly did as he was told. He doubted being in an enclosed room with her would help the situation. She closed the door behind her.

"Why are you guarding my door in the middle of the night?" she demanded.

"When else should I do it?"

"Never! I only need you when I am going out of the castle."

Sandor shook his head. "I don't think so. I take my job seriously."

"Well when are you supposed to sleep?"

"I was only waiting there until everyone else was asleep. I heard you cry out, that's why I came in."

She blushed furiously. "I- I wasn't-"

"Come now little bird, you don't need to lie to me. I know what masturbation looks like when I see it."

She was still blushing, but she stood up straighter. "Even if I was, what does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"Who were you thinking about?"

Her mouth fell open with a pop. "Excuse me?"

"I was just wondering who you could have been thinking about to make you lose control like that." He said, a half smile pulling at him lips. He knew it was wrong of him to ask and she wouldn't tell him, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Sansa's face flushed red again, only now it was with fury. "How dare you? You have no right asking me such a personal question!"

"Was it someone I know?"

"Stop it! For once don't be so vile!"

"How am I being vile? I'm asking an honest question. Everyone has someone in particular they like to think about."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh really? And who is it you think about."

Shit. He should have known she was going to ask that. "We aren't talking about me."

"Oh, now we are. Since you seem so keen on the subject let's talk about you. Is it some whore from King's Landing?"

He didn't answer.

"No, that's too easy. Is some girl you were with when you were young?"

Still no answer.

"Or maybe it's someone you've never actually been with? Hmm let's think. It could be Cersei, you could want to hate fuck her. Or one of the maids here. Or maybe it's-"

"You."

She froze. "Excuse me?"

"What if it's you?"

She didn't respond.

"Oh, that shut you up. Does that thought terrify you. Does the thought of me touching myself to your pretty face make you want to vomit?"

He walked closer and she backed up against the wall. He stood over her, placing one hand on the wall. "How does it make you feel little bird? Tell me. I really want to know. You said you knew it was true that I would have fucked you. Did that repulse you too? Please, tell me what you find so repulsive about me."

She stared up at him with her doe eyes. "Nothing." She breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I don't find anything about you repulsive."

He frowned at her. "Liar."

"I'm not." She insisted.

"What about my scars?"

"They may have frightened me once. But I have my own scars now and I know none of that was your fault."

He stepped back. Was she telling the truth. "Don't play games with me girl, I know I'm not hansom."

"Some girls thought Ramsey was hansom. I have no use for hansom."

His mouth fell open slightly. What was she saying?

"Sansa…"

"Go, please." She breathed, looking away from him.

He turned and threw open the door, practically slamming it behind him. Once back in the cool hall he released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Had Sansa just admitted that she wanted him? He closed his eyes. No. That hadn't been what she had meant. All she had said was that he wasn't hideous. There were plenty of people who he didn't think were hideous but still wanted nothing to do with. He walked quickly away from her room, putting those thoughts far from his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Sandor slowly made his way to Sansa's room. He had spent most of the day avoiding her after what had transpired last night. He had tried to speak to her that morning, but she had practically run away from him. When he reached her door, he hesitated before knocking. He lifted his hand and knocked twice. He waited, but there was no answer. He knocked again, but still nothing. Perhaps she didn't want to see him. He pushed the door open anyways.

The room was dark and cold, and Sansa was not there. He frowned. It was getting late, where could she be? He heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and turned to see a squire approached. He thought the young man's name was Podrick.

"Ser Clegane," he nodded. "I was looking for you."

"What for?"

"It's Lady Sansa." He frowned.

"What? What do you mean? What's happened?" he asked, trying to keep the alarm from his voice.

"Oh, nothing has happened. Well, not really…"

"Spit it out boy, before I rip out your tongue!" he shouted.

"Well Lady Sansa was in the Great Hall and some of the men were drinking hard ale. She said she had never had any before so they offered her some and now she's, well, drunk."

Sandor sighed. Was that all?

"Why did you need to find me to tell me that? Go tell her brother."

"King Jon has gone to the wildling camp and won't be back until much later, and Lady Sansa sent Lady Brienne with him. I tried getting her to come back to her room but she pushed me away. I thought, what with you being her personal guard, you could help her."

He sighed. "Fine."

He set off at a march towards the Great Hall. What did she think she was doing getting drunk with a bunch of soldiers? That would be a good way for a beautiful girl like her to get herself raped. Then he would have to get his clothes dirty with their blood, not that he would mind. And make no mistake, he would rip their limbs off and shove them down their throats if they hurt her.

He stormed into the Great Hall and saw Sansa sitting at a table near the back with a large group of men. They all laughed loudly at whatever she was saying. He walked to her quickly.

"And- and then, he just fell over! He was chocking and thrashing about like a fish on land. And Cersei was crying and everybody was panicking! But God's if I hadn't been afraid for my life I would have cried with laughter! Watching that vicious bastard die brought me more joy than I had felt in years!"

Everybody laughed again. Sandor walked behind Sansa.

"Sansa, what are you doing?"

She turned and saw him. "Oh! Sandor I'm so glad you came! Do you want some ale, it's very good," she slurred.

"Come on girl, get up," he said, lifting her by the arm.

"No, I don't want to go!" she cried.

"Hey, you heard the Lady, she wants to stay," one of the men said, standing up and grabbing her other arm.

"If you don't want that hand broken off and shoved up your ass, you'll get your fucking hand off her." He snarled.

The man released her quickly. Sansa tried to weakly push Sandor away, but he just scooped her up and cradled her like a child.

"Sandor, I think I can, *hiccup*, walk on my own." She protested as they left the hall.

"I doubt it."

She tried sitting up." Put me down Hound!"

"You're acting like a damn fool girl, now sit still!"

Sansa laid with her head hanging back loosely, swaying from side to side. She giggled.

"Hound, does this remind you of anything?"

He glanced down at her. Yes, it did. Back at Kings Landing when Joffrey would beat her particularly badly, this was how he would often carry her to her room.

"Gods, Joffrey was a cunt, wasn't he?" she laughed.

He looked down with a smile. He had never heard her talk like that before. "Yes, he was."

When he reached her room, he kicked the door open. He set her down on her feet, but as soon as he let her go she stumbled forward. He caught her arm just before her head could crash into the dresser.

"Careful little bird, or you'll smash that pretty head in."

She stumbled to her bed and pushed his hand away. "Why do you care about my head?"

"Because it's my job."

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, though it seemed she was having trouble concentrating on his face. "I don't believe you."

He frowned. "I don't give a damn if you believe me."

"Why did you give me your cloak?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When Joffrey ordered Ser Meryn to rip off my dress, after Tyrion came in you took of you Kings Guard cloak and gave it to me. Why?"

"Because you were half naked and nobody else was going to step up."

"But why did you? You didn't get anything from it. You haven't earned anything for a lot of things you've done."

"You looking too hard into the matter. I don't have reasons for a lot of things I do."

He started to turn to leave.

"Hound, wait!"

He stopped and turned around.

"I need your help. I can't sleep in this dress. Help me untie the back."

He moved his eyes over her thin figure. "No, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?" she demanded.

He stared into her face. "I just shouldn't."

"Oh stop being an idiot! It's not like I'm asking you to kiss me! I can't sleep in this damned dress."

"Fine," he half sighed, half growled. "Stand up and turn around."

She attempted to stand, but swayed and fell back on the bed laughing.

"Come on girl, hurry it up!" He didn't need to be tortured for any longer than necessary.

He pulled her up by her hand and turned her around, making sure her hands were holding securely to the bed post. His hands shook slightly as he pulled at the strings on the back of the dress. He had thought about doing this so many times, had had these fantasies more times that he could count, but they were always in a very different context. When he had fully unlaced her, he stepped back.

"Done."

"Thanks." She sighed, before allowing the dress the fall off her. Sandor inhaled sharply. He hadn't been expecting her to do that. She wore only a thin shift.

She pointed to her wardrobe. "Can you get my sleeping gown?"

He walked to it and pulled one out before tossing it to her. He realized this had been a bad move when she tried to catch it but instead fell to the floor. He rushed to her, worried she had hit her head. She was laughing again.

"Gods little bird, you're a pain when you drink."

He picked her up and set her back in the bed. He watched her wrestle with the sleeping gown, trying to figure out how to put it on. He shook his head, smiling slightly. He had seen plenty of women drunk before, but he always found them obnoxious and over bearing. Sansa wasn't that. A bit useless, but overall she was quite endearing.

"Do you need help with that?"

"No!" she insisted.

She tried shoving her head through one of the arm holes. He couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. She pulled her head back and frowned.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes. Come here, let me do it."

He resituated the gown and pulled it over her head. "Lift your arms." She did as she was told. He couldn't help but think of how odd a situation this was. He had taken many dresses off, but he had never helped a woman put one back on. In all of his fantasies, this wasn't what happened. Once it was fully on her she sat in the bed staring up at him, with half closed eyes. She suddenly and horribly looked like a child. He took a step back, feeling uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Sandor." She yawned.

He stared into her unfocused eyes and nodded. "You're welcome."

A brilliant smile suddenly lit up her face, one that nearly stopped his heart. Nobody had ever smiled at him like that before.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Go to sleep little bird." He said gently, stepping forward and turning her legs so that she could lay back flat. He pulled the covers up and leaned forward to fix her pillow.

"Sandor?"

"Hmm?"

She reached her hand up and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling his unsuspecting face towards hers. Her lips pressed against his gently, and Sandor froze. He pushed her back into her bed.

"Sansa, what-"

But she was already asleep, her mouth slightly open and her eyes closed. He stood over her, wide eyed and heart hammering. Why had she done that? He knew some women became horny while drunk, but he hadn't expected that from Sansa. And of all men, why him? He supposed the alcohol greatly helped his appearance. He knew a worse man than him would stay and try to get more from her, but he would not do that. He put her candle out and walked out, closing the door behind him. He knew she likely wouldn't remember that tomorrow, but he knew that was something he would never in all his years forget.

 **Comments are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the weird formatting before! Hopefully it's fixed now. So this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I've been really busy lately and I wanted to get something out to you guys. I'll try to update again this week! Please leave a comment!**

When Sansa awoke, she regretted the night before immediately. Her head spun as she tried to sit and nausea threatened to make her vomit. She pressed her hands to her eyes and shook her head. The movement was a bad idea and she quickly stopped. The past night was a jumble of images in her head, and she slowly tried to piece them together. She remembered drinking in the hall, slowly at first, and then all at once. She remembered the Hound coming and being glad to see him, until he made her leave.

Sansa rolled over and felt the soft cloth of her night gown. Had she changed herself? Sansa's eyes snapped open. She remembered. She remembered the Hound bringing her to her room. He had helped her take off her dress and he had seen her practically naked. And then… She groaned and covered her mouth. She had kissed him. She couldn't remember past that, so that must have been when she had fallen asleep. Unless…

She sat up and swung her feet out of bed. Had she fallen asleep, or had she simply blacked everything else out? Had she and the Hound…

"Brienne!" she called.

There were footsteps outside the door, but when it opened it was not Brienne. Podrick the squire stood in the doorway.

"I'm sorry my Lady, Lady Brienne is not back yet."

"Oh, that's alright. Can you call for the Hound? Tell him I want to speak to him immediately."

"Yes, of course. Where shall I tell him to meet you?"

"Here, in my chambers." She didn't need anyone else eavesdropping on what might have happened last night.

Podrick pause, looking confused, before nodding. "Yes, right away."

Podrick left and she quickly changed into her fur gown. Soon she heard the heavy approaching gate of the Hound. His footsteps stopped outside her door. She waited for him to knock or come in, but for a moment he just stood there. Finally, the door swung open. Sandor stood in the door way.

"Come in." Sansa ordered.

The Hound remained standing in the doorway for a moment, as though considering walking away, but in the end he walked in and closed the door. Sansa fidgeted nervously with her hands. If she had slept with the Hound last night… well, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. But if the Hound looked at her differently now…

"Sandor, about last night-"

"What about it?" he growled.

"I remember mostly everything. I remember getting drunk and you coming for me. I remember you helping me out of my dress. And I remember kissing you."

Sandor stared at Sansa. What did she want him to say? Did she want him to deny it happening? Because he wouldn't do that. But he also didn't want her feeling guilty for anything.

"Sansa, you weren't yourself. I didn't think anything of it."

"Right, neither did I," she nodded. "But, I can't remember anything after the kiss. So, I was wondering, if we, you know…" she trailed off, her eyes searching his face for answers. He realized a moment later what she was asking him. He wanted to laugh and be furious at the same time.

"You want to know if I fucked you while you were drunk."

Sansa blushed, but nodded. Sandor closed his eyes. She really thought he was a monster. She really believed he would rape her. He didn't even have enough fury to yell at her. Instead he spoke quietly.

"No Sansa. I didn't take advantage of you."

Confusion crossed her face. "No, Sandor, that wasn't what I was asking. If we slept together I wouldn't think-"

"Think what? You don't think it would be wrong for a sober man to force himself onto a drunk unconscious woman?"

She blinked. "I suppose I didn't think about that. But no, Sandor, I don't think you would ever do that. It was foolish of me to ask."

He sighed. "It's fine. Everyone else thinks of me as a beast. It's fine if you do as well." This wasn't the truth. She was the one person he didn't want to see him as a monster.

"I don't think you're a beast Sandor. I think you're a hard man, and you use cruel words to hide your feelings, but inside I believe you are a good person."

He watched her. "Right. Well for future reference, I don't fuck women who don't ask me."

He turned to leave.

"And if I asked you?"

He froze in his tracks. Truly she couldn't have said what he thought she said. He turned slowly. She looked mildly surprised herself, but she kept eye contact. He shook his head. She was only toying with him.

"You would never ask for that little bird."

"And if I did?" she demanded.

He shook his head again. "Stop it. I know you would never. I'm not something you would want. Go find one your hansom knights."

A look of sudden furry crossed her face. "You stop it! I'm not that same little girl with flowers in her head and weak knights on her mind. What use are they to me?"

"What use am I to you?"

She stopped, and something seemed to be warring behind her eyes. Finally her face softened. "Can't you just be enough."

At her words, everything in him seemed to fall out all at once. His hatred, his resentment, his blind fury, and was replaced by something else. Hope. He barely trusted himself to speak.

"Am… am I enough?"

Sansa bit her lip. "Am I?"

Sandor couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Could she really not know? How could she not see right through him? "Sansa. I don't understand. What are you saying?"

She looked away. "I don't know. But I want you to stop thinking of yourself as a monster, because you aren't to me. You're one of the few people who has protected me without wanting anything in return."

He laughed again. "Believe me, I wanted something in return, I just knew it was something I would never get."

Her eyes widened slightly, and he realized his mistake. He had finally laid his thought out there, now she knew. She knew he had always desired her. He walked to the door. He didn't want to hear her thoughts on what he had admitted.

"If you need anything else, just call for me." He walked out and closed the door behind him.

Sansa stood staring at the door. Sandor had told her something she had always suspected, but she had never allowed herself to really think about. He wanted her. He had always wanted her. She walked to her mirror and sat down. She looked at her reflection as a realization occurred to her. He wanted her. And she wanted him back.


	10. Chapter 10

**!Warning! This chapter contains explicit sexual content. If you are a child or you don't want to read about that, then do not read this chapter! I almost considered not writing in sexual content and just having this be a fluff piece, but ultimately decided it was necessary for my story. I might do more chapters like this with this sort of content if you guys like it, otherwise I won't bother if you guys don't like it. So leave a comment and let me know!**

Sandor sat in the pub and downed his third cup of ale. It took a lot to get him drunk, so it had no effect on him, despite his wish that it would. Why had Sansa said those things? She couldn't have meant it when she said he was enough. It made no sense. If it were anybody else he would have thought she was being cruel, but the Sansa he knew was anything but that. But this Sansa wasn't the one he knew. He rubbed both hands over his face. Why had he even stayed here? He should have left with Beric, but he knew why he had stayed. Because she had asked. It had been years since he had seen her, but now, after being around her for a couple of weeks, he would do whatever she asked him. He never, in his entire life, had felt this way about another person. He would protect her at any cost to himself, even if they odds were stacked against him. He growled under his breath. He had become weak. There was reason he had never allowed himself to love someone before.

Sandor opened his eyes. "You don't love her you fucking idiot," he grumbled under his breath "you just want to fuck her."

Beric's words came back to him _"You curse more when you're lying."_

He sighed and slid back from the table. Drinking wasn't doing him any good. He might as well go to bed. He made his way out of Winter town and back to the castle. He wanted to be angry with Sansa. He had come to terms that he would never have a chance with her, but now she had dangled hope in front of him. He couldn't shake the idea that she would snatch it away as soon as he reached out for it. He shook his head. He would put a stop to it tonight. From now on he would speak to her only in formalities. If she tried to bring up silly ideas like she had earlier that day he would shut them down. He could deal with knowing he would never have her, but to have her and then lose her would be unbearable.

He made his way through the halls, but before he could reach his room the sound of footsteps made him turn. Podrick the squire was rushing towards him.

"Sir Clegane! There you are. I've been waiting for you to return for hours."

He considering telling him he wasn't a knight, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Lady Sansa. She has urgent business with you. She said it's very important."

Sandor frowned. What business could Sansa have with him that was so urgent?

"Where is she?"

"In her rooms."

He shook his head. He wouldn't be alone with her in her rooms anymore. "I'll see her in the morning."

"But Sir, she said it was extremely important and private. I offered to help her with whatever it was, but she said only you could do it."

This peaked his interest. "She's in room right now?"

"Yes." Podrick nodded eagerly.

Sandor sighed. Fine. Just once more. He made is way slowly to her room, trying to collect his thoughts. He would make it a short in and out encounter, and would not let the conversation be anything but business. He reached her door and knocked. There was a sound of scrabbling from inside, then her gentle voice spoke. "Come in."

He pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind him. When he turned to look at her, he froze. She was already in her sleeping gown. She stood beside the fire, with only a few other candles lit around the room. The fire danced off her red hair making it come alive. He looked away from her and cleared his throat.

"You asked to speak to me?"

"Yes, please sit." She motioned to the bed.

He tightened his jaw. "No, that's not a good idea. I'll stay standing."

She sighed. "Fine. Sandor, I wanted to talk to you about, well, it's just-"

"Spit it out girl, I haven't got all night," he growled.

Sansa took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I know that you want me, Sandor."

Sandor turned to leave. He had just told himself he wouldn't listen to any more of her nonsense.

"Wait, please! Just hear me out."

He stopped with his hand on the door handle and closed his eyes. He shouldn't stay. It was a bad idea. But then, he had never been one for great ideas. He turned back to face her. She smiled before continuing.

"I know that you want me. I know that you've probably wanted me for a long time."

"And what do you want little bird?"

"I want the choice."

He narrowed his eyes. "The choice of what?"

"Of whatever I want. From the time I was thirteen years old I never had a choice. I didn't have a choice when Joffrey was beating me, I didn't have a choice when I married the imp, I didn't have the choice when Ramsey raped me and beat me. I want to choose what happens to me."

Sandor shook his head. What did this have to do with him. Did she want him to kill someone for her? "What is it that you want Sansa?" he repeated.

Sansa set her jaw. "I want you."

Sandor's mind worked slowly. "Want me to what?"

Sansa crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, obviously becoming annoyed at how long it was taking him to grasp her words. "Do you really need me to say it? I want you… to lay with me."

Sandor's breath left him in a huff. He couldn't have heard her right. Sansa would never say that to him. "You… want me too…"

"Yes, lay with me," she said impatiently. "In this bed, right now, clothes off."

As her words sunk in, he shook his head. "No."

Sansa looked shocked. "What? Why not?"

"Because you don't want me!" he snarled. He realized he was using his fury because he was afraid. He would push her away before he hurt her, or before she hurt him. But instead of backing away, she took several long strides towards him, her eyes full of anger.

"Stop telling me what I want! I'm sick of it! I'm telling you what I want, so just trust me! I've thought about it all day. I have a choice now in who I lay with and I want to lay with you!"

As his anger faded, he only felt confused. "But why? Why do you want me?"

She let out a laugh. "Is it really so hard for you to believe? You have always been kind to me, even if I couldn't tell it was kindness at the time. You've never hurt me, never lied to me, never made me feel like I was nothing. I know that you don't love me and that's fine, I'm not asking you too. I'm asking you to do what you've wanted to do for years."

He looked away from her. "Sansa, I can't."

"Why not?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She walked forward so that she was only a few feet in front of him. "You won't hurt me."

It was the same words she had said so many years ago. "Not on purpose," he agreed. "But look at me. I would break you in half."

She shook her head. "I'm not so breakable. Not anymore. After what Ramsey did, I doubt anything you do could hurt me."

He closed his eyes, feeling his resolve crumble. "Sansa…"

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. She looked hurt. "Fine. Just go then. I was being stupid." She turned and walked back towards the fireplace. "I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

The last of his resistance fell away. He crossed the room quickly in only three steps and spun her around. She gasped, looking up at him in surprise, as though she hadn't expected him to really do it. Well it was too late for that now. He had never been one for kissing, but Gods he wanted to kiss her now. To feel her soft lips on his rough mouth. He lifted her so that she sat on the dresser and pressed his mouth to hers. She seemed shocked for only a moment, before she leaned in to it. He kept his hands tight on her hips, feeling the soft fabric in his fingers. She wrapped her hands around his head. He had pictured doing this so many times, but had never thought this would ever actually happen. Sansa started wiggling around, and it took a moment for him to realize what she was doing. She pulled his shirt over his head and threw it the floor. Well, it was only fair for him to do the same. He pulled her off the dresser and dragged her nightgown off before lifting her and dropping her back on the bed.

He froze, standing over her naked body. Her red hair fanned out around her, and her slim figure lay bare before him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to just stand there and stare all night, but the tightness in his pants wouldn't allow him. He crawled on top of her, using his arms to support his body. He trailed his mouth slowly over her stomach, and felt her shiver beneath him, which only excited him more. He moved his eyes up to her face and saw that she had lifted her head to watch him. He smiled. He moved his mouth up to her breasts and slowly ran his tongue over her nipple. She let out a soft moan that made him dizzy. He needed to hear that again. His flicked his tongue quickly back and forth, her nipples stiffening and becoming hard in his mouth. He looked at her face again and saw that she was biting her lip and her eyes were closed.

He brought his hand down between her legs and found she was incredibly wet. He ran his finger up and down, and she cried out much louder this time.

"Oh my God," she whimpered.

He lifted his mouth from her and frowned. "Did I hurt you?"

She looked at him with what he could only describe as panic. "Don't stop you idiot!"

He smiled and brought his mouth back to her breasts. Whores never had this sort of reaction. Years of fucking had made them numb to sensations. He ran his fingers between her wet thighs a few more times before he was sure she was ready to move on. He then slowly slid two of his fingers inside of her. She was tight, but not as tight as she would have been were she a virgin. He was glad. A virgin could never take him. She inhaled sharply as he slid his fingers in, but didn't tell him to stop. He moved his fingers in and out for several minutes, until she had loosened. Her whole body shook beneath him.

"Oh God, Sandor," she whispered.

Just hearing her say his name like that could make him cum. He pulled his hand out of her and stood up. He began to unlace his pants. She lifted herself on her elbows and watched him. He paused, looking down at her again.

"Sansa, we don't have to do this."

He had never turned down sex before. He had fucked more women than he could count. But looking down at the most exquisite woman in the world, the thought that he didn't deserve this crept back into his mind. How could this be right? Beast's didn't lie with maidens.

"Sandor, it's a bit late for that isn't it?" she laughed.

"No, it's not. We can stop right now. Because once I start, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop," she assured him.

"But what if I… what if I tarnish you."

She stared up at him quietly, seeming to consider his words. "And what if you heal me?"

"Why would the Gods let me have you?"

"The Gods don't do a damn thing. I'm not a prize to be given. I give myself to you. I won't make you do something you don't want to do, but…"

Sandor laughed. "Something I don't want to do? You're a strange thing little bird."

He continued standing with his hands on his laces. Sansa sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. She pushed his hands away gently and took the laces in her own. He watched her, his breathing heavy, as she pulled the laces free. She slid his pants and under clothing down all at once. His manhood sprang free. She stared at it quietly. Now that she had seen him, would she turn him away? She stood suddenly, turning him so that she could take his place. She pushed him down so that he was sitting on the bed. He breathed slowly, watching her in silence. She then placed each of her long legs on either side of him. He knew what was coming next, and both desire and fear raged within him for control. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

Not trusting himself to speak, he only nodded. She lowered herself until her lips pressed against the head of his manhood. He inhaled sharply. Slowly, she lowered herself further onto him. As he slid into her his whole body shook. Years of fantasizing hadn't prepared him for this. She began to move up and down more quickly, moving her hips as she did. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. His hands gripped the bed sheets on either side of him. Sansa pulled on his arms, making him hold her hips. He began to guide her, moving her fasted and pushing deeper. He chanced a glace and opened his eyes, and what he saw nearly made him cum right then and there. Her eyes were open, and she was watching him. She didn't close her eyes and pretend he was someone else like all the whores. She saw him.

He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her again. She responded eagerly. He fell back onto the bed as she continued to ride him. Her movements became quicker and more erratic, and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He had to stop her before he came inside her, but the wild beast that resided within him had taken over. It would be up to Sansa to get off in time.

"Oh Gods!" Sansa cried. "Oh, oh, oh."

"Sansa, hurry, get off!" he choked out.

Instead of doing as he said, she tightened her legs, threw her back, and came. Her whole body shook and convulsed, and she spasmed around his manhood. He had never given a woman an orgasm before, and the sudden tightening around his manhood made him lose it. Without thinking of his actions, he grabbed her hips and released himself inside her. He came several times, pumping into her. When he finished he let her go, and she fell onto the bed beside him. They laid there, breathing heavily, for several minutes. What had happened began to sink into Sandor's head. He had just fucked Sansa Stark. No, not fucked, that word didn't sound right. Made love? No, that couldn't be right either. He turned his head to look at her and saw she was smiling.

"Wow," she breathed. "I never knew sex could feel like that."

He looked back to the ceiling. "No, neither did I."


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter is a bit short, but I felt inspired so I busted this out in an hour. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think of it so far!**

Sandor sat in the Great Hall and ate his first meal of the day. He ate alone, as per usual. He couldn't blame the other men. He was a terrible conversationalist. As he ate his rabbit stew, the doors to the hall opened, allowing a gust of frigid air to blow in. Sansa walked through the doors and made her way up the rows of tables. He watched her, hoping she would look up at him as she passed by. But when she reached his table she kept her eyes straight forward. It had been three days since they had slept together. He had thought after that night they would grow closer, but the opposite had happened.

The day after they had fucked, Sansa had gone to the maester, claiming to feel unwell. He worried he had hurt her, and had tried to ask her about it, but she had ignored him and avoided him since then. He also wanted to make sure she took something to ensure a pregnancy wouldn't occur. She didn't need that right now. But every time he approached her she ran in the other direction. He had even gone to her room, but the door had been locked and she hadn't answered.

He had feared something like this would happen. She had made a horrible mistake, and now she regretted it. She didn't want to see him, because it reminded her of what they had done. He wanted to hate her for doing this, but really, he just hated himself. He had allowed himself a glimpse of happiness. Since when was he allowed to be happy? He made up his mind right then and there. He would leave. He couldn't sit here day after day and watch her. He wanted her more than anything else he had ever wanted, but she was the one thing that was out of grasp. He stood from the table and made his way outside. He wouldn't be saying goodbye to anyone. Nobody cared if he staid or left.

Once in his room, he threw his belonging haphazardly into his rucksack. He would get a horse and then find Beric and Thoros again. They were dull fuckers, but they were better than staying here and being ignored. Once everything was packed, he slung in bag over his shoulder. He made his way down the halls, heading for the front gate.

"Sandor?"

Her voice made him stop. He should keep walking and not look back. Seeing her would only make this worse. He must be a masochist. He turned around. She stood outside her bedroom door, a slight frown on her face.

"Sandor, where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

She looked shocked. "What? Why?"

Fury boiled up inside him. "Why?" he snarled. "Because I won't stay here and be used by you and played with whenever it suits your needs. You're a selfish bitch, and I don't need this."

For as long as he had been here, none of the hurtful things he had said had seemed to have an impact on her. But this did. She didn't cry, but she looked like she was on the verge.

"Sandor, please, let me explain. Come in."

Without another word, she walked into her room. He remained in the hall. He should leave now, but part of him wanted to know what ridiculous excuse she would come up with. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him. She sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap.

"Well? What excuse do you have?"

"Sandor, there are things you need to understand."

"Oh," he laughed humorlessly, "I understand just fine. You're a highborn Lady. You need to be with a pretty highborn Lord. I was just there to scratch an itch you had that night."

"No!" Sansa cried, standing up. "Please listen, I'm sorry."

"I don't need your fucking apologies. Besides, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should have known better."

"Sandor, I'm doing this for you," she insisted.

"How the hell are you doing this for me? You told me you knew what I wanted, well this sure as fuck isn't it. There's nothing you can say to make me stay."

This wasn't true, and he knew it. Even if he couldn't be with her, he would stay if she asked him too. To protect her, his little bird. He hoped she wouldn't ask. He doubted he could keep his sanity for very long.

"Sandor, I haven't been avoiding you because of anything you did. You've been great. Better than great, you've been perfect."

He was silent. What could he say to her? He knew he hadn't done anything wrong. She just didn't want him because of who he was and what he looked like. That was worse than if he'd done something wrong. At least then he could fix it. He shook his head. "You don't have to explain this to me."

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "Sandor, what's going on with me right now, you don't want to be a part of."

He sighed. "It's fine. I only came by the other day to make sure you took something to avoid pregnancy. I came inside you, and I doubt you'd be pleased to carry my child."

For some reason at these words, tears crept into Sansa's eyes. "There are worse things in the world."

He hated when women cried. "Sansa?"

"Sandor, I'm not going to get pregnant with your child."

"Maybe you missed that lesson, but when a man come inside a woman, it leads to pregnancy."

She shook her head and looked back at her hands. "Sandor, I can't be pregnant with your child. Because I'm already pregnant."


	12. Chapter 12

**I FINALLY found the time to update. I almost forgot about this piece, but your nice comments and messages made me decide to continue. If you like this chapter don't forget to leave a comment! Thank you guys!**

Sandor stared at Sansa in silence. He didn't understand what she was saying.

"What are you talking about?"

She wiped the tears from her face with the heels of her hands. "Sandor, I'm pregnant!"

He shook his head. "I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I know you can't find out that quick. You went to the maester the day after we slept together."

Sansa sighed, looking at him almost pityingly. "Sandor, I'm three months pregnant."

Realization dawned on him. "Ramsey."

She closed her eyes. "It must have happened on one of the last times he raped me. I thought I'd gotten rid of him, but it seems like he'll never be fully gone from me."

Sandor watched her in silence. What could he say to her? He had no idea how to comfort her, softness had never been his strong suit. She wiped her eyes. She spoke as though she read his mind.

"It's ok, I don't expect you to say anything. You didn't sign up for this. You don't have to be involved with me, but you also don't have to leave."

He remained silent. He wanted to be the sort of person who held her and told her everything would be alright, but he didn't know how. He cleared his throat.

"So, you'll be having a little Bolton?"

"No!" she snarled, baring her teeth. "I would rather have a bastard than a Bolton. I'll tell everyone I slept with another man around that time. This child will be a Snow."

"If you do that, you'll tarnish your reputation forever."

"You think I care about my reputation?" she spat. "What other choice do I have? I asked the maester about getting rid of it, but I'm too far along. He could try to go in and take it out, but I could die in the process."

"No," he snapped. "Don't do that."

She shook her head. "I've come too far to die because of Ramsey Bolton. No, I'll give birth to it, and raise it as well as I can."

They stood in silence for a moment. Sandor racked his brain for something to say. "Sansa, I-"

"Don't, really," she frowned. "I don't expect anything from you. If I had known about this before we slept together I never would have done it. I thought this could maybe be one good thing in my life, but Ramsey managed to take this from me as well."

He took a step towards her, but she raised her hands. "Sandor, stop. Please, just go."

He stood there for a moment more before turning and throwing open the door. He marched down the hall, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He made his way back to his room and threw his pack onto his bed. He wouldn't be leaving, at least not for now. He sat on the bed and pressed the heals of his hands into eyes. He wished Ramsey hadn't been killed. He wished he was still here now, so he could kill him slowly. The fucking Bastard had ruined everything.

Sandor stood and made his way to the great hall. He needed a drink. Before he could make it the hall, however, a slim figure stepped from the shadows of the hallway.

"I didn't imagine I would see you here Clegane." Little Fingers weasel like voice make him want to vomit.

"What are you doing here Baelish?" he growled. "I thought you were doing work for Sansa in the Vale."

"Oh, I was. But I thought it necessary to return, to better serve her."

"She was doing fine without you here."

"And why are _you_ here?"

"What fucking business is it of your what I do?"

"You should mind that temper, Clegane. It'll get you into trouble."

That familiar cold fury swept through Sandor's body. He took several slow steps towards Baelish. "The only one who needs to worry if I lose my temper, is you."

Little Finger maintained his calm composure, but Sandor noticed him lean back slightly. "Have I done something to offend you, Hound?"

"Honestly? Just looking at your little weasel face offends me. You're a fucking snake. You can use your words to twist and manipulate everyone else, but I know what a lying cunt you are. I have no use for words."

"Well, if I'm a snake, perhaps you should be more careful around me."

"There's no point in trying to creep around a snake. The only thing to do is to cut off its head."

Baelish's eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, Sansa's soft voice spoke from behind Sandor.

"Lord Baelish? When did you arrive?"

Sandor turned as she approached.

"Within the hour, my Lady. I was on my way to see you when I ran into the Hound."

Her eyes moved to his face, and he could still see the sadness in them. "Yes, I was just speaking with Sandor."

"Oh?" Baelish asked. "About anything of interest?"

"Even if it was, we wouldn't tell you," Sandor sneered.

"Sandor, manners," Sansa chided, though he noticed a hint of appreciation in her face.

"Yes, be a good dog and run along." Baelish smiled.

"And you will not speak to him like that," Sansa snapped, that familiar fire behind her eyes.

Baelish frowned, but didn't protest. "Come, Sansa, we have much to discuss."

"You may go and wait for me in my office. I need a word with Sandor."

Baelish's lips tightened, his eyes moving between the two. A moment later gave a curt nod and walked briskly away down the hall. Sandor watched him go, a sour taste in his mouth.

"You shouldn't keep him here. He can't be trusted."

"I don't trust Little Finger. Only a fool would."

"Well I'm glad we're at least on the same page about that. If I were you, I wouldn't trust anyone."

She stared up at him. "I trust you."

His eyes searched her face. "Sansa…"

"Like I said, you've never lied to me."

 _Oh, but I have. Every moment I don't pull you to me and tell you what a goddess you are is a lie_. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"I only wanted to ask if you are leaving."

He sighed. "No, not for now."

She smiled, and it damn near broke his heart. He would do whatever she asked of him, if only for that look.

"Good." She reached up and placed her fingers on his scared face. Gods, he wanted to kiss her again. But a moment later she was gone, walking away down the hall. He watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

He began to walk to the great hall again, but half way there turned and made his way out of gates. The great hall wouldn't have a strong enough mead. Only the Winter Town pub would do. As he trekked through the trees, the need to take a piss made him stop. He relieved himself on a tree, and as he laced his pants back up a voice spoke from behind him.

"I thought you were dead."

The voice was both familiar and yet not. Sandor turned, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck right off, but he froze mid breath. Arya Stark stood ten feet away, her calm eyes appraising him. She smiled at the look on his face. "You've gotten old, Hound."


	13. Chapter 13

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It took me a while to find time to update, but I will try to do it more often.**

Sandor stared at Arya. She looked different from when he had last seen her, though that was to be expected. It had been three years since she had left him to die on the side of that mountain. She'd be sixteen by now, and she looked it. He hair was a little longer than before, but was tied back away from her face. She wore a small smirk.

"I thought you were dead too," he finally said.

She shrugged. "I guess we're both a little tougher than we thought."

"I guess so."

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

Sandor motioned in the direction of Winter Town. "To get a drink."

Arya nodded. "I'll join you."

"Don't you want to go see your sister? She'll want to know you're alive."

A small look of concern crossed Arya's face. "I haven't seen my sister in more than five years. I can wait a few more hours."

Sandor nodded, not pressing the matter further. He began to walk in the direction of Winter Town once again, and Arya fell in line. Sandor watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Though she did look older, that wasn't the only thing different about her. She walked with a grace that she had never had before. Every movement was fluid, like water. He supposed there had been something to that water dancing she had gone on about.

"I can see you watching me," she smiled, not looking at him. "What is it?"

"You're different."

"Yes," she nodded.

"What happened to you?"

She was silent for a moment. "The same thing that happened to you I suppose. Life."

"You weren't so damn cryptic the last time I saw you."

She laughed. "I'm not a stupid little girl anymore."

Sandor shook his head. "You were never a stupid little girl."

They reached the town and made their way to the pub. It was a bit louder than normal, with all the men that normally worked the fields inside for the new snow. Sandor made his way to the back of the room and found an empty table. Arya sat across from him. She leaned back, looking unconcerned at the rowdy men around her.

"What have you been doing since you left me to die?"

She smirked, but ignored him accusing tone. "Oh, you know, a little of this and little of that."

"Enough with the riddles, girl!" Sandor snapped. Gods, she had always had a way of getting under his skin. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table.

"You really want to know?"

"Why the fuck else would I ask?"

She nodded, looking over his face. "I killed the Frey's."

He stared at her in silence for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"Surely by now you've heard the Frey's are all dead?"

"Yeah."

"Well I killed them," she shrugged.

Sandor studied her face, trying to decide if she was lying. When he realized she wasn't, he leaned forward on the table. "How?"

Arya smiled, seeming to come alive. This was clearly something she had wanted to tell someone. "Well, first I killed Walder's eldest sons. I cut them up and baked them into a pie, before serving it to Walder. Then, I cut his throat and took his face. Finally, I poisoned all the wine pitchers and killed the rest of the males in his family."

Sandor couldn't help but laugh. "You're serious?"

Arya laughed along with him. "I am."

"Fuck, I'm not even that vicious."

"I don't know about that. I remember a few instances where you were quite the beast."

Before Sandor could respond, a full-figured bar maid approached their table. "Can I get you two anything?"

"Your biggest pitcher of ale," Sandor said.

Arya waved her away. "Nothing for me."

The bar maid left to get Sandor his drink.

"You're not a child anymore, why not order a drink?"

"I don't need anything slowing my mind. I don't have armor or a big fucking sword, just speed and my own mind."

The maid came back and set Sandor's drink before him. She turned to Arya once more. "Are you sure I can't get you a drink love? The Hound has a bit of a reputation with the other girls, and you look a bit too small to be taking him sober."

Sandor, who had been in the middle of taking a large drink, nearly choked. Drink sloshed down his front. "What the fuck are you going on about woman? Get out of here before I knock sense into you."

The bar maid, looking offended, turned and walked back to the bar. He looked to Arya and found that she was laughing. "What the hell's so funny?"

"She isn't the first person to think your intentions are less than pure with me."

Sandor shook his head, wiping the spilled ale from his chin. "This world is filled with fucking monsters. People call me a beast, but I would never do that to a child."

Arya leaned back in her chair and placed her feet on the table. "Well, I'm not exactly a child anymore. But I understand. For all your faults and all your protests against it, you are an honorable man. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but in your own way."

Sandor stared into his cup. "I'm better than some, worse than others." He looked back up at her and saw that her eyes were moving around the room, taking in everything around them. "I thought you would be mad that I was alive. I thought you wanted to cross my names off your list."

Her eyes landed back on him. "I thought I did too. But, after a hard lesson, I realized I was wrong. I didn't want you dead. That's why I didn't kill you when you begged me."

He nodded. "Well, you're coming back at interesting time."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Sandor twisted his cup in his hands, debating himself on what to tell her. "Your sister is pregnant."

Arya's eyes widened. She hadn't been expecting that. "Who's the father?"

"Ramsey." The words tasted like poison on his tongue. He didn't want them to be true.

Arya narrowed her eyes. "Why do you look so upset about that? What is it to you whose baby she has."

He lifted his eyes to hers, and it took her only a moment to read his expression. She dropped her feet from the table and leaned forward. "Whoa, wait. Seriously? You and Sansa?"

"No! I mean not really. We only spent one night together. It didn't mean anything."

"It doesn't look like it meant nothing," Arya frowned. "Do you love her?"

"No, of course I don't," he growled.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Liar. I can see it, in your eyes."

He looked away. He didn't like this new Arya so much. She was too damn perceptive. As she watched him, her smile slid away. "Does she love you?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "No."

"Have you asked her?"

"I don't need to ask her," he snapped. "Why would she ever love me? All she has ever talked about are her hansom knights and dream life of being married to one."

Arya shrugged. "I mean, you know her better that I do now, I suppose. But I'm guessing Sansa has changed quite a lot in these last five years. I know I have."

Sandor clenched his fists. He wouldn't allow that thought into his head. It was too much to hope for, and too much to lose if it wasn't true. When he didn't respond, Arya continued.

"So, what does Sansa plan to do?"

"She says that she'll tell everyone it was someone else's. She'll raise it as a Snow."

Arya frowned. "And the child will be raised without a father? That's not right. Every child deserves a father."

Sandor downed that last of his drink. "It's her choice. Besides, what am I supposed to do about it?" When he looked up at her, she wore an odd look on her face. "What? What is it?"

"Well, it's just, if you really do love Sansa… why don't you say the child is yours?"

Sandor stared at Arya as though she had lost her mind. "Why the fuck would I do that to her?"

"You would be helping her!" Arya insisted. "That way, the child wouldn't be a bastard. Plus, you would get what you want, and Sansa would have someone to protect her. Nobody could ever marry her off again."

Sandor shook his head. "Even if I said it was mine, the child would still be a bastard."

Arya crossed her arms. "Not if you married her."

At this, Sandor burst into laughter. "You really have lost your mind."

Arya only smiled at this. "What's so crazy about that?"

His smile slid from his face as he realized she was serious. "It would never work. Sansa would not agree to it."

"But would you?"

"What?"

"If she agreed to it, would you do it? Would you raise a child that wasn't yours and claim it as your own?"

Sandor frowned. In truth, he didn't know. On one hand, you doubted he would be able to look at the child of Ramsey's without hate and contempt for what their father had done to Sansa. On the other hand, it would be Sansa's child. It may even look like her. And if he was married to her, he could protect her always. He could have her always. He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Sansa would never agree to it."

Arya leaned back, still wearing her mischievous smirk. "You'll never know until you ask."


End file.
